Secret Saturdays: Tales of the Wendigo
by Sephiria Arks
Summary: Miranda is over at Paul's house, right before a winter storm comes in during the night. Here, she learns about the Wendigo from Paul, and these folklore stories cause some repressed memories to stir in her head. Are the stories truly folklore or is this something more?
1. Chapter 1

The crackling of the wood fire filled the room, unless the usual howling of the wind picked up outside. I pulled my legs close to me, and a shiver ran down my spine. My gray eyes over to Paul, as his footsteps filled the room, and he handed me a coffee mug. Giving him a quick small smile, I took a small sip and tasted the coffee on my tongue.

"You know, not many people go out into the coldness with very little layers of clothing on. Most would say that's either crazy or completely insane to do."

I laughed a small bit, and watched him sit down on the brown leather chair that matched the couch I was on.

"Then I'm crazy and insane enough to go out into the cold. Sure the temperatures drop to a degree, but I'm not afraid to even go out. You know that I've been in colder temperatures, especially down in Antarctica."

He merely nodded his head at me, and we sat in silence while drinking our coffees. Staring down at mine, I could feel the sorrow slowly crawling up me, reading to break through my skin and allow the tears to come. Standing up, I walked over to the fire and stared at the vibrant flames that were flicking up from the burning wood. With one hand, I brushed back the long locks of my red hair that was falling into my face, and glanced over at Paul.

"Okay, so far you have my attention Miranda. There's something wrong, so what is it?"

Turning towards him, he removed his sunglasses from his eyes and I stared at his amber-brown eyes. Blinking, I looked away as he casually let out a laugh and gave me on of his relaxed grins. Out of all the people that I have come to know, he's the most relaxed person out of everyone I've met. And he's always been the most easiest person that all of the Secret Scientists could talk to, especially me since I've confided secrets to him the past and he's never told anyone about them. Which earned he earned my trust. Letting out a sigh, I quickly let the words slid off of my tongue.

"How is it that out of everything that has happened, you're not angry at me? I practically betrayed all of you and defended the Saturdays? Why don't you at least show one small bit of resentment towards me, Paul? All of the others have, so why not you?"

He got up from the leather chair, and approached me with a bit of caution in his steps. He set his coffee mug on the coffee table and did the same with mine after taking it from my hands. His left hand sat on my right shoulder, and he gave me a small smile. Staring at him in confusion, he ruffled my hair that I usually kept tied up in a bun. That resorted in me shooting a glare at him, and he just laughed.

"I'm not one to be angry forever or hold grudges, Miranda. Okay, I was mad at firs but you did what you believed was right and I can't hold it against you there. So you changed sides of at a battle, who cares? We've all changed sides at one point in our lives, except for Epsilon, but we've done it plenty of times. What you did may seem right to you, and not to others, what are we to do about it? Force you against your will to do something that you don't wan to do? We can't do that, and you know it and so do I. And that much, I clearly understand it."

I brought Paul into a hug, and he hugged me in return. We stood in silence, and I could hear the howling of the wind growing louder. And I knew outside, there was a storm brewing. We parted away from each other, and he looked towards the window.

"You know the darkness of the storm outside is reminding me of a dark story, that I heard of when I was little. Ever heard of the Wendigo?"

I shook my head no at him, and he sat down on one end of the couch and I sat down on the other end. Raising an eyebrow at him, and he gave me a grin that was full of excitement.

"It's a creature with skin that's been pulled too tightly over it's own bones, and the color a deathly ash gray. It's own eyes are hard to see, and looks as though this creature came from the grave to haunt the land. Its own lips, tattered and bloody like an apple beaten to pulp, and it's own flesh hanging off of its own body and it gives off a horrible smell, as though it really did come from the grave here. And it never stops eating, it will always hunt for food."

I found my attention drawn to his words, and my heart was starting to beat in my ears. Stories like these, I was never truly fond of and I remembered when I was little that these would give me nightmares. So whenever a scary story was being told, I would be out of the room in a heartbeat. But here, Paul had me drawn to the story that he was telling me.

"But the story of the Wendigo, has two known tales. Both with different endings towards the main characters, and the stories are only set about thirty years apart from each other. One story is of Jack Fiddler, and the other is of Swift Runner. So which one do you want me to start out with first?"


	2. Chapter 2

My fingers ran through my bangs that always flick at my eyes, and I questioned weather to begin with Jack Fiddler or Swift Runner. Biting down on my lower lip, I gave it a moment longer to think about it and gave him my answer.

"Start me off with Fiddler."

"Okay then, the less horrible of the two stories."

My eyes grew wide, and he leaned close to me. I simply brushed a lock of hair behind my right ear.

"Jack Fiddler was a shaman of the Sucker People, said to have killed fourteen Wendigo's throughout his life. He was asked by people who had sick love ones to kill them before they became a Wendigo, as a Wendigo spirit would possess them. The most reason why they were becoming Wendigo's was because the area they lived in was running low on creatures of the woods due to over-trapping which led to his people starving. So they left the area, and moved to where there was more food, and he still defeated the Wendigo's. The end of his life came, when he was arrested for murder. He managed to escape the place that was holding him for his crimes, and hung himself that very day. Thus that was the end of Jack Fiddler."

"And the next story about Swift Runner? How is his different from Jack Fiddler's?"

"Quite easy, both may have been convicted of murder but Swift Runner's story is different. He was of Cree descent, and had six kids. They lived decently, and he did trade as his job and also worked with the police that would arrest Jack Fiddler later on. Soon winter came, and starvation was approaching them. So they moved to a new trading post for food, but his eldest son died before they could arrive. And his family ate their own sons body."

My heart dropped down to my stomach, and I started to feel a bit sick. Cannibalism had been there answer to live, but Paul didn't look as though he was done with the story.

"Next, Swift Runner killed the rest of his family and ate their own flesh. And they all never knew that there was a trading post with plenty of food nearby. Finally, the police caught up to him and he was sentenced to death for the crime of murdering his six remaining relatives. Told them that he was a Wendigo, but they didn't quite believe him on that. So later on, he was not charged upon being a Wendigo, but charged for murder, sentencing him to be hanged. And he was hung in the cold, months after he was caught and put on trial."

The clock stroked half past eleven, and I jumped at the single gong that filled the room. Paul just laughed at me, and stood up from the couch.

"You got so absorbed into the story, the clock made you jump. Don't tell me that you're scared of stories like those."

"Sorry, if every time a tale that dealt with dark stuff like the ones that you told me about, I would be out of the room. But that was when I was very little."

"Everyone gets jumpy after hearing creepy, disturbing, or sickening things. Trust me, been there before. Now come on, lets get some sleep and see how things are in the morning."

Nodding my head, I followed Paul up to the second floor after he put out the fire. I could smell the remnants of the fire waft through the air, giving the house the smell of burnt wood. He led me to a room where my small luggage bag was, flicked on the light and stood there in the doorway.

"Need anything, I'm the second door down on this side of the hallway. Have a good nights sleep, Miranda."

"You too, Paul."

He left the doorway, and I silently shut the door. There was a small click, and I heard him walk down to his room. Heading over to my luggage bag, I pulled out a light blue sweater and black sweatpants. Changing into them, I walked over to the light switch and quickly flicked it off. I crawled underneath the cold covers of the bed, and curled up into a small ball to conserve some warmth.

All around me, I heard the howling of the wind and my mind flicked back to the moment when Paul told me of the Wendigo. The last story, took place in winter when it was getting to extreme cold and fighting to survive was the option. Shivering, I turned over and tried to distract myself from those thoughts. It worked for a while, and I managed to fall asleep with some peace on my mind.

During my sleep, I tossed and turned as a simple nightmare filled my mind. _The winter snow was stained with red. My hand pressed down into it and as I stood to my feet, I saw the red impression of my hand. There was a low laughter behind me, and there was the mumbling of words. With a blurry vision, I headed forward and soon felt myself being pressed down into the snow. . ._

I gasped out loud and fell out of the bed. My left cheek touched the cold wooden floor, and I pulled myself up with the nightstand and looked at the clock. It simply read four nineteen in the morning. Shaking, I made my way towards the door just as a blasting howl of the wind filled the room. Pushing open the door, I entered the cold hallway and headed down towards Paul's room.

Hopefully, he will give me some peace with my troubled mind.

 **Author Note: To all readers out there, these two stories are true accounts up in Canada. I give credit towards different websites: , wikipedia, and Cryptid Creatures Podcast by Jesse Haynes, where I have gathered most information from. I tried to do my best to make it as accurate that I could for the story, while trying to keep the facts straight. I hope you enjoy reading this, and do take note that the Wendigo is folklore. And a side note, there is possibly maybe one or two more chapters left of this story, I do not tend to make it long as the other Secret Saturdays stories that I've done. Thank you for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

I lightly knocked on Paul's bedroom door, and waited for him to open it up. After a moment or two, I knocked on it again and slowly opened the door. A lamplight soon flicked on, and I saw Paul was barely getting out his bed. His black hair was a complete mess, and I could see that he was wearing a white male tank top with dark blue sweatpants on.

"You okay?"

"Just a bit restless now, because I woke up from a nightmare."

"Don't tell me that the Wendigo stories got to you already. They are folklore stories, and they're over a hundred years old if you're wondering. All they did was blame folklore for their crimes, because of the situation they were going through."

"No, not that. The Wendigo's didn't wake me up, though I was thinking about it before I fell asleep. . . There was snow, but it was turning red. I was bleeding, I think. . . someone else was there, but I don't know who."

He let out a heavy sigh, and looked out towards the window. He patted an area of the bed, and I sat down next to him. I felt like something bad was going to be told to me, and I was growing nervous by the passing seconds. Paul stood up abruptly, and he paced for a single moment or two before facing me.

"Remember when you woke up a few days ago in the hospital? Here in Canada?" 

"Yes, you were there apologizing that you should have been there to meet me and not let me travel alone."

"Well. . . No one really knows what happened to you, and neither do I. What you're having is memory retrieval. I found you, bloody and a snowstorm was just coming. Someone or something was there hurting you, but it fled when I came and started to defend you. . . When it left and I saw you out cold and bleeding. . . I – my mind was blank for a moment, then I rushed you to the hospital. You stayed asleep for two weeks. The doctors said that you were suppose to wake up a few days after I brought you in, but. . . You didn't till two weeks later. You had us all scared."

I stayed quiet for the next few moments, and thought back to the attack. The memory felt as though some of the fog that clouded it went away, and I slowly let myself fall into it.

 _My head turned towards the figure, blood rushing into my eye and over my nose. His laugh filled the area, being louder than the crushing wind that layered snow upon me. A green glow came from his eyes, and I heard him talk French to me. And I thought I saw his flesh falling off a small bit._

 _"Ce'st la mort."_

 _His words were soft, then I heard the gun shots filled the area. It hit the creature that was attacking me, and he fled. I watched his figure vanish in the dark, and I shifted myself and shoved whatever I had in my hand into my boot. Moments after I felt someone barely lift me into their arms, everything went black around me._

"He spoke French. Something mort, but his voice it was familiar. I've heard it before, too many times in fact. If I could play his voice right now, you could possibly recognize it too."

"Look, don't stress yourself. Don't even think about it, and get some sleep now. We've been at this for a good fifteen minutes, and today just might be longer than it was yesterday. But we'll talk more in the morning, when we're more awake and not feeling sleep coming down upon us."

I slowly started to get up, as my body was beginning to complain at me, and I just felt Paul lift me up in his arms. My arms grasped around his neck tightly, and he let out a painful laugh.

"For someone who survived an attack and is still recovering, you sure do have a lot of strength."

I gave him a weak grin, and he gently put me down upon his bed. The lamplight soon went off, the covers were flicked over me and I felt him gently hold my hand. A light blush rose into my cheeks, and I felt myself stiffening from this sudden movement and slowly shivering from the cold. Turning away from him, his arm went around my waist and I pressed myself against him unintentionally.

The howling wind started to flare up again, but it didn't seem to bother me as it did before. Sleep remained oceans away from me for the longest while, and I'm sure it remained very distant towards Paul too. Closing my eyes, I tried to gain some sleep from what remained of this night, but when I opened my eyes the morning sunlight was spreading into the room.

Paul was already gone, so I was left alone in his bedroom. Sitting up, the sleeve to sweater tugged at the stitches on my lower right arm and I gently rolled up my sleeve so that my stitches wouldn't pop off. Sliding out of the bed, my bare feet touched the cold wooden floor and it sent a shiver up my spine, as my feet padded across the floor and I entered the hallway. I could hear Paul talking downstairs to someone, and I headed down there to check up on him.

"No Epsilon, she's doing better so far. Even though she's been awake for a few days, she still has stitches and bruises though. . . Some memories of the incident came back last night."

 _"She's right behind you, Dr. Cheechoo."_

Paul spun around in his chair, and he gave me one of his cocky grins. Using my left elbow, I pushed myself away from the archway and walked towards the laptop. Waving at Epsilon, he gave me a small grin. A rare thing, which everyone sees.

"You know Epsilon, if you have question about my health then you can ask those questions to my face."

He raised an eyebrow at Paul, and with the reflection of the laptop he gave Epsilon a small nod.

 _"Tell me everything that you can recall."_


	4. Chapter 4

I recalled all of the events that I could remember from last night. There were too many gaps now, but I remembered the attack. The laughter, thinking that I saw decaying flesh, and something in French. The words that the creature spoke were lost to me now. Epsilon soon signed off after I gave him everything that I remembered, and I turned towards Paul.

My arms were crossed, and I was starting to grow annoyed with him now. He raised an eyebrow at me, and merely shrugged his shoulders.

"The Wendigo tales, you told them to me for a reason. The reason is why, though? Why did you tell me the Wendigo tales last night, Paul?"

"Because after I brought you to the hospital, the doctors found a large sample of decaying flesh with you. It was in your boot, and Doc managed to get a sample. We all got concerned that what you ran into was a Wendigo, so I told those stories to you before we got the result today from Doc. Turns out it wasn't a Wendigo at all. The sample in truth, it was Yeti's flesh."

I backed away from him, and my whole mind was reeling inside me. I felt sick to the core, because the only Yeti we've ever known was Argost. But he was killed a second time after the Saturdays had a run in with Ben Tennyson a while back. And now he's back for a third time.

"How many times is he going to come back? Why did he attack me out of all us Secret Scientists?"

"We don't have all the answers, Miranda. We don't even know who brought him back this time or what he has planned this time. So lets just take a breather, from all this at the moment. Do you want anything for breakfast?"

"You're thinking about breakfast at a time like this? We all just found out that V.V. Argost is back from the dead, and he's the one that nearly killed me a couple weeks back!"

"And the fact that the Wendigo stories brought back the memories."

He let out a small laugh, and I grabbed a pillow off an armchair and threw it at him. He threw it back at me, and I tossed it down onto the floor while letting out a small groan at him. Leaving the room, Paul was right at my heels while telling me about the different options that I could have for breakfast. I simply rolled me eyes, as we both entered the kitchen and basically had a quiet breakfast. I didn't care on what I ate exactly at the moment, so I went with along with whatever he made. To be honest, he's a pretty good at cooking.

For the next hour, I sat at a window seat and listened to Paul talking with the other scientists across the hall. The sun was hiding behind the clouds, and the once blinding white snow was now bearable to look at. Outside, I saw an Arctic fox bouncing into the snow for its meal and finally came out of the snow without a single catch in its mouth. I laughed a small bit, as it started over again to find the small creature that it wanted to eat.

I continued to watch it until it vanished out of my view, and studied how it left all the holes and paw prints in the snow. Some had been dug at, and others were left as they were when it jumped in. The fox had listened in the area, made it bounces and searched for what it had in mind. Getting up, I headed into the room where Paul was just as he signed off the video chat with everyone.

"Anything new?"

"Nothing that we didn't know about. Due to that snowstorm coming in when he attacked you, the trails gone practically cold."

"Have we searched under the fresh layer of snow? Think of it, snow compact itself over anything, and I left fairly deep dents and they should very much still be red from my blood. There has to be more traces under the snow."

"Never thought about that, but I'll tell the others that later when we gather for another chat later on today. But I got a question, what do you plan to do once you're fully recovered?"

"I plan to go after Argost, it's what we've always done. And if we stop going after, then we'll fall too far behind him and he'll have the world eating out the palms of his hands. And us Secret Scientists, we don't wan that happening."

"Is this to get revenge for what he did to you?"

My eyes crossed over his, and I could feel them start to grow cold. Slowly approaching him, my fists balled up and I slammed one down onto the desk.

"Don't ever say that I'm out for revenge. I don't care if the score gets even or not; games like these are pathetic and stupid. Plus, I'll never sink to his level of thinking. Even if we cross paths, I'll never be able to do what he can, as I don't believe in getting exact revenge will do anything for us at all. Revenge is a misguidance motivation."

"Glad to see that, plus I knew that you would be unable to anything of that sort."

"Then why ask me?"

"Because, most people will be out for revenge to get back at the person or people that hurt them. They would want that person to feel what they feel."

He lifted up my hand and gently rubbed his finger over my knuckles. His lips planted a soft kiss on them, and he gave me a casual grin.

"So when do you want to start digging at the snow?"

"Tomorrow, it's nearly noon and you have the chat session with the others later on. So we'll also have extra time to prepare to dig at layers of snow."

"Okay, and good thing I won't have to contact them tomorrow. For now rest up and lets save our energy."

I simply nodded my head, and started to walk away from him as he started to type away on the laptop. Even though we merely found out about this all today, I think we're handling okay so far. And if Paul didn't tell me the Wendigo stories, then maybe I wouldn't recall what I already knew. Glancing back at Paul, I secretly gave him a soft grin before I slowly let it vanished off my face.

"Hey Paul, do you have any more Wendigo stories or other Canadian folklore stories in your head?'

"Yeah, I got some more stories up in my brain. Do you want to hear them?"

"Maybe, but not at the moment. And thanks for the Wendigo stories, those helped in some way that led to this."

"No problem, if you want to hear different stories let me know. And I'm here in case you just want to talk, if you don't want to hear a story at all."

I just walked out of the room, and came to the conclusion. Wendigo or not, Argost is a man that is truly walking as the living dead. He may not hunger for human flesh, but he'll want to kill that's for sure. And if he has to kill to have world domination, then he'll just do that.

 **Author Note: A large thank you to all readers, for enjoying my story and leaving the comments. I very much appreciate it. I have reached the thought of, which this story will lead to another story. This is simply part one to the next part of the story, which is has barely even formed. Please look at Cryptid Creatures Podcast, each Podcast is unique and very interesting to hear. I hope that you will like the podcast's like I do.**


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